TimxJay: Tutor
by xTammyVx
Summary: HIGHSCHOOL AU. Jason does NOT need a tutor, but that's okay - Tim doesn't need a student. -Details at top of fic-
1. Your New Tutor

**Pairings:**  
TimxJason, with some off-side DickxKory

**Summary:**  
AU. Jason does NOT need a tutor, but that's okay - Tim doesn't need a student.

**Rating:**  
M for sexy things.

**Multi-chapter?**  
Yes.

**AN:**  
Note that Tim's parents are alive and well, Jason is two years older and Dick one year older than him—the two are brothers—and both adopted sons of Bruce Wayne. Tim is a relatively wealthy student at Gotham High, assigned by Dick (head of something-or-rather) to tutor rebellious, leather-wearing Jason Todd. I've basically bullsh-sorry, _recreated_ Tim's parents.

Don't be afraid to leave a comment! It gives me a little thrill when I see [New Review] in my emails :3

* * *

It was just for extra credit.

That was all.

"Tim, this is Jason," Dick smiled. "Jason, this is Tim. He's going to be tutoring you."

Immediately the mental note-taking began – instant and quick, as all of Tim's were.

Jason was taller than him. Huge in comparison to Dick. Almost as good-looking – not in the same way, though. The former acrobat had always been close to _famed_ for having that handsome, Disney-prince look. Jason, however... More the allure type, apparently. Hadn't said hello yet. Wasn't smiling or wearing his uniform – must have changed out of it the moment the bell rang. White streak in his hair plus the fact that such a thing was strictly banned meant he was financially loaded but rebellious.

Intercepting any pleasantries that could be made, a snorting sound cut into what Tim was about to say.

"_Him?_ Dick, he's just a _kid_."

Before the person of interest got a chance to feel hurt or offended, Dick turned to him and smiled again. "Yeah, a kid with a mind better than most adults _I_'ve ever met." It was directed at Jason but he was talking to Tim – something that made the youngest student bite his lip to stop his soft cheeks from glowing with pride. Jason sniggered audibly and dropped down with a loud grunt.

"Well," sighed Dick, obviously not impressed with his friend's rudeness, "I hate to leave in such a touching moment, but I'm late for stuff. If you need anything, you both have my number and the librarian is in her office. S'ya later."

.

"You know, I would _really_ appreciate it if you got your feet off the table."

"You know, _I_ would really appreciate a little less attitude."

This was how it'd been all evening – Tim attempting to get the book read, Jason apparently succeeding in drowning him out. Occasionally flicking back his white lock with a toss of his head. Mostly just spinning around slowly in the desk chair.

"I'm just doing what Dick _told_ me to do," growled Tim. "I'm just trying to _help_."

"Ditto. Minus the _help_ part, of course."

"You're a douche-bag."

Jason pulled his shoes off the varnished, previously-spotless wood, his eyes locked on Tim. "You're gay, aren't you, kid?" Eschewing off any response with a hand up, he continued quietly; "I saw the way you looked at Dick – if you want to suck his cock so badly, all you have to do is ask. I highly doubt he'd put up a fight against fucking a sweet ass like yours. You could try it on a desk next time he goes 'round to study, but he's super-traditional so it'll probably be missionary on a bed."

Tim's lips spluttered. He hadn't really just said that, right? Jason raised an eyebrow. "You don't waste any time pissing people off, do you?" he retorted in weak aggression.

"No denial, eh?"

"Dick is a brother to me as I am to him – that's all that's going on between us and that's all I _want_ to go on between us."

"Still no denial," Jason sang, leaning into the cushioned back.

His mouth opened in shock. "I _did_ deny it, you arrogant-"

"You denied having feelings for _Dick_, which I already knew to be the case. You clearly friend-zoned each other ages ago." He took a quick swig from the small bottle atop the stack of books, the one that Tim had already tried countless times to swipe from his grasp. Swished it around his mouth. Swallowed noisily. "You did _not_, however, deny having feelings for guys in _general_."

Tim's lips pursed. There was no way he could argue against this... this...

"Where are you going?" he cried. Jason took a last glug and aimed, threw and perfectly landed his empty bottle in the recycling bin. "Jason – we still have another hour."

"Whatever – tell Dick I split. You'll still get paid."

In an instant, Tim's significantly smaller body blocked the exit. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do. Getting knocked down with a single punch wasn't exactly on his Blackberry's planner. "You're not leaving."

Smirk. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Tim gulped down the worth of his life. "How you place on the final exams reflects on me, too. _I_ am responsible for the grades you get. _I_ am the one who'll have failed if you do. _I_ will be the one who wasted time in this place after school when I could be out, having a life, doing stuff-"

"-and kissing the principal's ass, I know. Why is your life so _difficult_?" Jason sighed dramatically. He then grinned and the expression _scared_ Tim. It was a grin like that of a shark who smelled blood in the water. Looping an arm around his companion's neck, the older boy strode back in the general direction of their work spot. Tim subtly checked around for other people, anyone who could help- "Wanna know a secret, kid?"

"Not from you I don't."

"Huh. That's funny." It certainly wasn't _funny_ when Jason shoved Tim against the nearest wall, knocking a couple of books to the floor in a way that would surely damage their spines.

"Jason! What the hell-"

"It's _funny_ because, no matter what the answer, I'm going to tell you anyway." He snickered. "And I highly doubt you're the kind to block your ears and scream at the top of your lungs."

How? How was Tim supposed to answer that?

Apparently he didn't have to – Jason pressed himself closer, close enough that his breath on Tim's neck was easily felt and _far too good_. Part of Tim yelled _his arms are up – elbow hit to the ribs, knee to the gut, foot to the chest and he's down_.

And the other part...

He didn't want to think about it. Dismissed the thought.

"My secret is that I don't _need_ a tutor."

Tim's eyes nearly slid closed as he tip-toed the brink of melting-point when the words hit his skin. "Bu-"

"Every year it's the same story – I do fuck-all during class, same for homework, but anything that means shit I do to an excellent standard. Dick wants to change that." He sighed. "Me? I don't really give a crap."

"Then why are you getting tutored?" Tim spat, earning a chuckle.

"Maybe... Maybe one day I'll tell you. Then again, maybe not." He pulled back just an inch and Tim let out a relieved swear. "For the time being, however, I have a proposition. A deal."

He didn't want to know what this "deal" was.

Especially with Jason eyeing his mouth like that...

"You're right-handed?"

Tim squinted.

Then strong, rough fingers clasped onto his arm and Tim reactively struggled. Jason either didn't notice or chose not to acknowledge it. Instead, he pressed his lips to the pale, thin skin revealed by his blazer's slipping. Tim immediately froze, then winced as Jason began to bite and suck.

"What are you _doing?_" he hissed.

Jason, once again, ignored him. Released with an obscene wet sound to admire his work. Shamelessly satisfied, he smirked and looked back at Tim. The boy gulped.

"When you're using this hand tonight for... _whatever_ purposes, I want you to think of me. No-one else. Not Dick, not Edward freakin' Cullen, and _definitely_ not some pimple-faced teenager in your year with their head in your crotch, just _me_."

"Why should I?" snapped Tim. The purple oval was already blooming, entwined red vines amongst magenta roses. "You think you just press me up against a-"

"One question at a time, please," Jason tutted. "And you'll do it because while you're out, and I quote, _having a life, doing stuff_, **I** will be inside my room, reading that book. It'll be finished by morning. You have my word."

Tim didn't really think through what he said next. "How do I know you'll stick to it? How do I know you won't just be going to another crack-house and getting high?"

"Because getting high is for losers whose realities suck, and _my_ reality is awesome. I happen to rather like it. Also, what _didn't_ you understand about the one-question-at-a-time rule?" Jason licked his teeth, sending Tim shrinking back into the wall. "But since you're such a nice little boy, I'll answer the other one, too. You can quiz me tomorrow, alright? Ask whatever questions you like about that horrible piece of literature and I'll get it down and dusted. Easy shit."

Then he wasn't pressing against Tim's body anymore, and the younger of the pair stumbled half a step, rubbing at his wrist and watching as Jason headed for the exit.

"How do I know you won't slack off and read the Wikipedia?" he asked.

Jason paused, turned. Shrugged.

"I guess we just have to learn to trust each other."

.

"How'd it go?" Dick asked as Tim approached the car.

His heart rate didn't ease its hummingbird pace, decided to increase and crawl up his throat.

"Fine. He left early, but I wasn't expecting the full three hours."

Dick shrugged. "What can you do?"

Once in the passenger seat, Tim proceeded with deep breaths. He'd been able to slow his lungs' intake for a while. Just a _little_ while, though – enough to wish the librarian a good night and go without arousing suspicion.

"What's that?"

"Hm?"

"On your arm. What is it?"

Tim jerked his sleeve down; "Nothing."

Dick sighed, backed the car into an empty slot. Tim pulled at the door-handle with a tad of distress in his gut – locked.

"He didn't hurt you, right?" asked Dick.

Blue eyes narrowed in his best I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about face. "What do you mean?"

A nervous laugh filled the silence for a moment. "Jason has a, uh, _habit_ of messing up his tutors and classmates."

"You knew that and you put me with him?" Tim yelled.

Dick held his hands up submissively. "Not _really_ messing up – just sort of screwing around with their brains. I figured if _anyone_ could change him or his outlook on schoolwork, it'd be you. You're a pretty tough nut to crack."

Tim considered it for a second. "Nothing happened," he finally said. "Now let me out."

They both knew it wasn't the truth. Nevertheless, a _click_ later and he was out in fresh air that smelled like Mexican. Their parents—Tim's, more specifically—would go _mental_ if they knew that each Monday the two would go to a food cart on the side of the road, but it'd been a tradition since Dick could drive and neither one was in a hurry to abandon it.

"Want a chip?" Dick asked, gesturing to his paper bowl.

Tim grinned as he took one. "Graciez."

"Nessun problema."

Then Tim realised which hand he'd used. Immediately thought of Jason sitting beside Dick, stealing more of the cheesy nachos and laughing.

"Tim. _Tim_. You okay?"

"Fine," he assured Dick.

But he wasn't.

"So what's Jason's deal, anyway?" Tim asked as nonchalantly as possible.

Dick shrugged. "Smokes but doesn't do drugs, smart but doesn't try, heartthrob amongst the girls but none of them are... his type."

"Oh."

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" Dick persisted.

With a roll of his eyes, Tim cracked a smile. "Really, I'm fine! Quick question, though – did you tell him I'm a fag?"

A cat meowed at their feet and Tim tossed it a chunk of his taco's insides as Dick sighed, shook his head at his meal. "I really wish you wouldn't use that word."

"Why not? It only has so much power as we allow it to, and nobody's around anyway."

Dick was clearly avoiding the question. Lucky for him, it'd been a long day and Tim would leave it.

Temporarily.

.

Tim turned the chair in his room around, rested his arms on the headrest and chin atop them. All night he could only think of Jason, and it frustrated him to the highest degree. And what the heck was _wrong_ with him? Normal people didn't do those kinds of things. No way. Not that Tim was particularly gifted in that area of expertise, but nobody had to be a _genius_ to know that the idiot probably wasn't even _touching_ the damned book!

That idiot with an amazing jawbone...

Tim shook his head yet the image stuck. The face that mocked him. The hands that held him. The teeth that bit him.

_Snap out of it, Drake! Don't give into him! Strangers aren't supposed to think of other strangers in such positio-_**lights**_. It just isn't appropriate!_

Another voice triumphed, however; Jason wouldn't have to know, would he? If Tim just admired his slightly-off-centre nose (a result of a previous fight, he imagined) and calmed, teasing eyes. Or his shoulders and leather jacket, which just _had_ to be concealing rippling muscles, judging by the build of his torso. Jason was, undeniably, pretty hot. Not the young, boyish type like a lot of the guys in his classes. Older, more experienced.

_Sexier_.

Plus, he had kind of... _invited_ Tim to think of him like that.

Right?

Tim had to allow his mind to wonder further. After all, Jason would never know...

The memory from the library seeped in and Tim suddenly couldn't help it. What if they had been panting, not talking and taunting as Jason seemed to find so amusing? What if that had been the case? That minor detail would have changed the whole scenario.

What if they had been _embracing_?

Tim hummed a small laugh – there wasn't even the slightest possibility that Jason was the type to _embrace_.

But what if they had been naked?

The next one didn't take an incredible imagination.

Jason breathing hard into his ear, Tim completely elevated both physically and mentally, repetitively gasping out the other's names in between numerous other sounds.

And pretty soon he was grasping at the plastic of the chair, grinding up against its spine. Whimpering out the softest of breaths into his arm and flexing his feet at each wave of pleasure. Forcing the bulge in his pants to rub harder, constricted, as though it was being touched by...

A hand?

_Jason's_ hand?

The fact that he didn't seem to _mind_ the thought shocked Tim more than the actual idea did. Jason had pretty big hands. Ones that would fit just perfectly between his thighs to caress... well... _everything_.

Then it really hit – this was Jason he was fantasizing about! _Jason_, who smelled of smoke and booze, was _this close _to being expelled (if only the teachers could catch him and his dad wasn't rich) and wouldn't fucking _read_ to save his life.

Tim realised too late that he'd lost his balance, sending the chair to the floor with a loud _clunk_ and bringing him with it. His knees took most of the weight, instantly stinging with the pain, but it was his mouth that shot off in curses.

"Sweetie? I heard a noise – are you okay?"

"I'm fine, mom! The chair and I just had a-" He cast a glower at the furniture piece. "-_disagreement_."

"As long as you're alright. Oh, and dinner will be ready in half an hour."

Tim righted it and himself, erection still begging for attention despite its host's very-recent topple. Frustrated at his own body's lack of restraint, he pulled at his belt with his left hand, right at the ready, then imagined Jason watching and switched.

It seemed Tim's relationship with Lefty was to be taken to the next level that night.


	2. Not A Deal

**AN: Hey, I've seen a lot of favs and alerts on this fic, but only two reviews? Harsh, guys... :P (Check it out - moustache smiley = :{ Hehe...)**

.

"You can't smoke in here, Jason."

"And yet I am. Funny, that."

Tim rested his face in his palms as he sat down. It was the top floor of the library and no-one was around anyway – Miss Anchorberry had told Tim she'd be back in half an hour after casting a wary glance at Jason, who'd waved.

"Did you read it?" he asked.

Jason grinned. "Sure did. Go ahead, ask me anything."

"Why did you apply for a tutor?"

The grin faltered. "Okay, I seem to recall the deal being that I'd only answer questions about books, but fine. New deal – an eye for an eye." Jason cocked his head. "Did you think of me the other night? When you were jacking off?"

It was actually quite amazing, the way he could ask such things with simple ease. Whilst Tim blushed and shuffled lower into his seat, Jason took another long draw on his cigarette and blew the white tendrils out through his nostrils.

"Yes."

"And did you _come _to the same thoughts?"

Of course, Tim didn't want to answer. Even though it'd been five days since Jason had made him that _deal_, he could still remember vividly that it had taken **forever** to reach a climax. Albeit not a very good one, with a lot of clumsy gripping and tugging. He just hadn't quite realised just how terrible he was with his left hand.

Yet for some reason he wanted to please Jason. He didn't like it. He didn't even like _him_. But... still...

"Y-yes."

Jason immediately snorted. "Bull_shit_, kid. I've grown up in the same community as the rest of the shit-heads here. Don't you think I can tell when someone's lying?" He lowered his hand from his mouth, the one clutching the smouldering stick, and tapped the ashes onto the desk. Tim fidgeted. "Nah, I can't stay mad at you. You're such a pretty boy. Do people ever tell you that?"

Actually, he'd only ever really been called "gorgeous", and that was by his _mother_. But Tim wasn't about to tell _Jason_ that. No way. Not just to have another thing he could hold against him to tease and taunt and _no_.

"But you did think of me," he mused. "That's interesting."

Tim's eyes snapped up, flustered and confused and _pissed off_. "We only met, what, a week ago? And you're already involving yourself in my masturbatory details?"

Jason snorted.

"Do you believe in love at first sight, kid?"

Fists clenching, Tim bit out "_No_."

There was a twitch of agreement on Jason's nose. "Neither. But I do believe in sparks. Connections. Sometimes they turn out to be dust caught in the light, never even a spark to begin with. Just an illusion. But others..."

The words didn't match the speaker; they were far too refined and delicate, and Jason, well... _wasn't_.

"What are you doing?" Tim asked.

Jason's hand paused, momentarily stopping its slight squeezes and grasps.

"Well, if you're really so stupid that you can't figure it out then, Mr. Drake, I am _touching myself_."

"What?" gasped Tim. "Here? _Now?_"

Head threatening to lean back as his own touch continued to gentle around his hard-on, he exhaled.

"Jason!"

"I was up till one last night reading that stupid thing you gave me two days ago," he hissed. "I missed out on jerking off then."

"What about this morning? Ever heard of doing it in the shower like a _normal_ person?"

"Slept in. Only had twenty minutes to get ready before I was an hour late."

Tim knew he should've looked away. Left altogether. _Ran_. But he couldn't. Even as Jason's hand popped the button and slipped into his trousers, he just _couldn't_ take his eyes off. The red-head's, however, closed. He lifted his hips ever-so-slightly off of the seat. These movements—these intimate, horribly forbidden-fruit movements—had Tim's heart racing. This was the by far most sexual thing he'd _ever_ done, despite the fact that it wasn't even him doing it, nor was the brunette offering to assist in the current task.

"Jason, _stop_," Tim commanded meekly.

"Why? You not enjoying it?" He wasn't even looking at him as he spoke.

"This- This wasn't part of any deal!"

Jason smiled, pushing his cigarette back between his lips to allow himself the hands to unzip his fly. "'course not, kid. I don't make deals about sex. That's just not classy." He edged his briefs down _just a little_. "All I want _you_ to do is watch and enjoy the show."

"Jason, I-"

Tim was hushed instantly by "_Ssh, quiet_." He glanced down out of reflex and the sight went straight to the nerves between his legs.

He'd completely exposed his cock, fingertips running up and down, not really doing much. Just trailing. Tim shuddered a breath; he wondered how the guy could stand to go _so slowly_, knowing he himself would lose patience. No matter how long the boy could sit at a desk and study, or wait at an office for errands or even try to persuade Jason to do his work, when it came to masturbating Tim just couldn't wait.

And yet Jason could?

Then it struck—Tim couldn't stop the thought that occurred—and he swallowed; maybe Jason didn't just like to tease _other_ people...

Apparently not good for the long run, he realised as Jason wrapped his hand around the shaft. Unlike himself, Jason wasn't circumcised, and Tim watched in rapt attention as he slid the extra skin over the head of his dick a few times. He groaned around the obstruction, teeth nearly breaking through the paper, before reaching the hand not stroking to pluck it out and offer it to Tim.

"I don't smoke, Jason," he said.

"Then could you put it in the bin? I..." His words faded to nothingness but picked up again soon. "I can't do this with my mouth closed."

"I'm not going to take it."

"Fine," he grinned, grip loosening. "I'll just drop it, then."

So Tim sighed, took the disgusting thing. Grabbed his waterbottle and headed towards the bin. Once put out, the now-dead stick was released and he turned just in time to see Jason begin to fist himself fully. It wasn't elegant or smooth – rough, irregular pumps, the noises he was making even more so, alongside the occasional thrust with his free hand clutching the arm of the chair. He really, truly didn't care that Tim was watching, even as he sat back beside him with his eyes glued South. Jason was already leaking quite a lot...

Did he _like_ being watched? Tim pondered over the silent question. He would be utterly humiliated, knowing that someone was seeing him bring his own body to the peak of pleasure. Not that he had any idea what he looked like. For all he knew, amongst minutes' worth of odd noises and weird faces, Tim would look kind of sexy...

Then he took his gaze off Jason's most private (or supposed-to-be) bit of anatomy and almost squeaked. Jason was staring _right back_—through half-lidded eyes, sure—and had that same expression as most of the time he'd spent with Tim so far, only this time accompanied by the quick rises and falls of his chest and with his jaw slightly slack. _That_ was sexy, and it was also something Tim wasn't. It was _Jason_.

"Got a tissue?" he asked breathily. Jason took a moment to smirk at the pocket-packet Tim produced as he handed one over.

Tim never swore when he came. Ever. It just didn't seem like that kind of amazing feeling deserved even a _snippet_ of such language. Jason, however, gave it no thought, throwing his head back with a groan resembling the word "fuck". Then again, it could have been something else entirely. Anything, really.

Feeling embarrassed that he had indeed done _exactly_ as he was expected to, Tim found his willpower once again (hiding under a big, bloated layer of teenaged hormones). Looked elsewhere as the older teen made himself decent again, tossing the wadded-up tissue to land beside his abandoned cigarette. _Blushed_ as he readjusted himself, much to his own dismay.

"You want a hand with that?" Jason smiled.

Sneering, Tim moved his chair away an inch. "_No_, I do _not_ want a hand with it!"

Unbothered by the clear amount of _grossed out_, Jason shrugged and laid back to enjoy the afterglow. "Suit yourself."

And it was just as well that he hadn't agreed to... to... _whatever_ vulgarity was being suggested, because Miss Anchorberry decided it was the perfect time to round the corner of the stairs just a minute later. "Was somebody smoking up here?" she growled.

"It was Tim!" Jason blurted, grabbing his backpack. The woman rolled her eyes at him as Tim's mouth hung open. Despite it, Jason had the nerve to kiss her cheek on the way out.

Not that his _nerve_ surprised Tim...

"I know it wasn't you," she muttered, rubbing at her face to stop the feeling of his dry lips against her soft skin from crawling further, "but you could have come and told me."

The disappointment was obvious. However, even as they opened all the windows to get the stench out, his thoughts were still stuck on that one stupid red-head. Why was he acting that way around another student? Why Tim? Dick was bisexual – why not bother _him_ with his crazy stunts?

And why...

...Why was Tim beginning not to mind?


	3. Respect Your Younger

It'd been three months—thirty-six after-school sessions, all equaling to a total of five-thousand four-hundred minutes—since the incident in the library, from which they'd been banned after Miss Anchorberry told the principal of inside smoking (not that she'd been able to prove it was even _him_). So, in an empty classroom, Tim unloaded the books from his bag and the other boy's, who was slumped on the couch and looking bored.

He sat down and watched.

"See something you like?" Wriggling his hips suggestively, Jason tilted his head back with a grin.

"I'm waiting for you to pull out a death-stick. It seems to be the starting gun for our hours of unproductive study."

Jason shrugged off his heavy jacket, revealing a grey T-shirt and, just as Tim thought, _muscles_. "I quit, kid. Thought you of all people would notice."

Tim _had_ noticed – only because not a single packet had been creating a bulge on the inside of Jason's bag when he'd been gathering his supplies, and also the smell was duller. But this aside, _those muscles_...

A cocky smile spread out across the seventeen-year-old's face. "You _do_ like what you see, don't you? Here I was, actually trying to show you my patches, and all you can do is check me out? Tsk-tsk." He tugged the collar back up. "You boys are all the same, kid."

"I'm fifteen."

It was low, a flat statement that cast Jason's eyes up.

"Pardon?"

"Last week, remember? You ruffled my hair and called me the prettiest birthday princess you'd ever seen?" He stood and strode over, legs confidently apart as he addressed the other—wait, no—_his_ student. "My point is that I am _not_ a kid. I'm one of the smartest in my year." He inhaled. "Wow. Sure sounded good to say. It's always been difficult for me, Jason. I was so modest about my grades and such. Ha!"

His face took on a dark, stoic shadow as he continued. "Then I met you and I realised that I am _so_ much better than the average piece of shit I thought I was. Finally, I actually began to believe what my teachers say, but since you _masturbated_ in front of me you've been looking at me _all_ the time. That's why you never learn! _Your_ teachers still say the exact same thing and now it's everyone _else_ who thinks I'm not good enough! The irony is delicious, is it not? Well, _screw you_. The very least you can do when I put in my time and effort is address me by name. Either that, or I'll quit and you can just dump your own sorry ass into a homeless, slack-off future."

Fingers twitching, his lungs worked in a shaken, shallow rhythm by the end of it, more out of fear than breathlessness. Jason let the silence settle comfortably before he, too, stood. Tim's throat caught altogether. What had he _done_?

However, instead of raising his voice—or _fist_—Jason repacked his bag and slung it over his shoulder. With a two-finger salute he was gone.

And that was it.

For the time being, anyway.

.

"Tim! Hey, Tim! Wait!"

It was Dick. Of course it was. Tim could tell without turning around – could have told without hearing the voice, simply because the cheerleaders were giggling and blushing instead of glancing down their noses at the idiot yelling out from across the field.

Slowing but not halting, Tim scratched his elbow. He couldn't shake the feeling that Dick would be furious when he found out about the whole not-tutoring-Jason-anymore thing. Well, furious for Dick. That was almost as bad as normal-furious, though, since he was indeed the absolutely-_dripping_-with-disappointment type. He sighed.

"Sheesh, Tim – you made me run the whole way! Not cool!"

Okay, so... maybe he _wouldn't_ be angry...

"Oh, and speaking of Jason-" he began, only for Tim to cut in;

"We weren't speaking of Jason, Dick."

"Ah, but _now_ we are," he pointed out, a swift smile easily conquering the pants from his little jog. It wasn't that Dick was _unfit_, but it had been a while since his acrobat days... "So, I saw him yesterday. He seemed pretty upset. Did you guys have a fight?" Tim's cheeks reddened, and there was a brief few moments where he had to pretend to check out a girl strutting past so that Dick wouldn't notice. He did, however, and wasn't going to let it slide. "That's not going to work," he murmured. "I know you play for the other team."

"So what if we had a fight?" snapped Tim. "I'm not his girlfriend or anything!"

Startled, Dick composed himself quickly. "Tim, I didn't mean-"

"Maybe if he wasn't so damned disrespectful I wouldn't have quit!"

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, walking in sync with Tim. "Was it the whole 'kid' thing?"

"Wha-" Two eyes narrowed at the eighteen-year-old. "Dick. Talk."

"I've said too much-"

"NOW."

"Okay! Okay!" His confidence had surrendered without a second's hesitance. "I know he kept calling you that. You told me you hated it, but..."

Tim's teeth ground against each other. "_But_...?"

"But it's really... not what you think. He called me that when we were young, too. I didn't understand it – I'm older than him, and I remember how much it would piss me off." He shook his head. "It was only a few years ago that I learnt what it really meant to him."

Feeling curious despite his bitterness, Tim asked "And what's that?"

Dick shrugged, but smiled. "To him, it's not supposed to be an insult. Well, it is, actually. Kind of a masked affection, though. Like a pet name. He only uses it for special people." Glancing towards the even _more_ pink Tim, he leaned forward slightly. "How long did...?"

"He called me that since day one," he admitted gingerly.

"Wow. He really likes you. You must give off _really special vibes_."

Tim shoved him playfully, earning a laugh and a punch to the shoulder.

Jason? Affectionate?

No way...

.

Tim was tentative. Jason knew he was there. He _knew_ Jason knew he was there. A good, loud tripping over a flowerpot in the dark had taken care of the little issue of breaking the "I'm behind you!" news. That didn't make for a good conversation starter, though.

Maybe go for the mother approach...

He cleared his throat quietly. "What are you doing out here, Jason? It's freezing."

There wasn't even time for anything even _resembling_ awkward to settle between them.

"I came out here for a smoke, then I realised I don't do that anymore. Did you know it only takes eight hours after you quit for most of the nicotine to be out of your system, and a day for your taste and smell to improve?"

"No, I-. I didn't."

Back still to Tim, Jason continued to watch the pink slashes turn into yet another colour. He'd been there since before the sun set.

"Dick told me about you calling people 'kid'."

_That_ got his attention; Jason turned on his heel. "What?"

Stalling in the silence, Tim fought the urge to shiver violently – while Jason seemed perfectly comfortable with his hands in the deep, black pockets, the other boy was still in his uniform. The blazer wasn't very insulating. He stayed as firmly as possible until he could no longer pretend not to feel the chill and shuddered under another gust of icy wind.

Jason sighed. "_Fuck_. Alright, ki-... Come on. Out of the cold we get."

And Tim welcomed the warmth of the jacket, welcomed that of the classroom even more, taking the tissues Jason offered him with a small "Thank you," and a smile. Soon enough he was back to a normal temperature, body no longer vibrating. He tried to speak. Couldn't buck up the nerve to, though. Not with Jason completely avoiding his gaze, rather choosing to glare at the carpet or the ceiling or the walls.

"What..." Swallow. "What did Dick tell you?"

Feeling a little better, he replied "That 'kid' is sort-of a pet name. And he also said that you like me, but I don't think..." The words faded into nothingness when Jason, once again, averted his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said seconds later. "I didn't know... If I had, I wouldn't have said all that stuff."

"You wanna know another secret, Tim?"

The shorter of the pair froze completely. That... that was the first time Jason had ever used his _name_. He didn't expect the threat to actually _work_.

"I've handed in every single stinkin' piece of homework since you started tutoring me. I made sure Dick didn't tell you." The corner of his mouth hitched up just a little. "That guy is just _so_ susceptible to blackmail."

And suddenly it was goldfish-central in the mouth department. "Why would you _do_ something like that?" Tim pointed to himself; "I thought all the teachers were disappointed in me."

"Oh, they are," Jason chuckled, "but only because they know I've taken a liking to you."

"You-... You asshole! Why didn't you tell me?" But he was too pleased for it to be true anger.

"If you ever tell anyone, I'll deny it, kill you, join a cult, _resurrect you_, then kill you again, but..." Sheepishly, he ran a finger under his lock of white. "I was worried you'd stop seeing me. Y'know, after I started becoming a good little pet."

Tim eyed him shyly. "You'd made it apparent up until now that you don't care for what I have to say. What changed?"

"For a smart kid, you're pretty stupid," Jason commented. "Do you wanna know my third secret?"

Tim paused, nodded once.

"I got a tutor because I have, well, let's call it a _fetish_."

"A fetish? For learning?"

"For nerds."

"Gee, thanks."

"Hot nerds." Jason thumbed at the part of Tim's jaw that joined with his neck. "And you fit the profile."

"Profile?" Tim repeated.

Jason shrugged. "Attractive, smart, gay..." He bit his lip for a second. "..._feisty_."

"I've heard things about you," Tim murmured, though not batting at the fingers now pushing back his floppy hair, "about you messing with peoples' heads. It's not going to work."

Jason laughed, still not bringing his sight back to Tim's face. "Don't you see? It already did. Said it yourself – up until me you were in doubt of your own academic abilities, right? And now..."

"I did _not_ say that!" argued Tim.

Finally locking eyes with the younger boy, Jason's eyebrow twitched. "Didn't you?"

_Not... not _directly_ I didn't..._

"I should warn you that if you kiss me I will do to you what they did to William Wallace."

"In the movie or in real life?"

"I'll let you choose."

Jason's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Kissing, Tim. That's all I'm asking for."

"N-no."

"Two kisses and I'll take you out on a date."

Tim sneered. "What makes you think I want us to _date?_"

"What makes you think you don't?"

"Why are you suddenly so... so..." For once, words failed him. There should be one for people like Jason. There probably was. But he was advancing and distracting. Distracting _way_more easily than he should have been able to. "Why the hell did you want me to-"

"I don't want some geek. I want _confident_. It seems, however, that the line between _fumbling_ and _obnoxious_ is a hard one to balance on." Jason tilted the boy's head up with a knuckle under his chin. "And, _finally_, I've found someone who's nailed it."

"You egotistic jerk. You _did_ manipulate me!"

"And aren't you glad I did? Sometime shells open when they've gone off-" Still grinning with his teeth glinting dangerously. "-and sometimes, you use a knife." Tim's jaw clenched and Jason just wanted to lick the anger right off his face. "You're so hot when you're pissed off. Did you know that, Tim?"

Jason seemed to like the way that name rolled off his own tongue, how it felt so perfect on his lips, and took the lack of protest as a sign. Turned to the side of Tim's neck. Large hands snaked around his slim waist, not going for the obvious places, yet having the ability to hold him so closely.

"What are you doing back there, Jason? ..._Jason?_"

"Tim, really-" The brunette realised quickly that Jason was... _inhaling_ his scent, breathing on his ear and turning Tim into a weak mess. "-just _shut up._"

For someone with such chapped, sore-looking lips, Jason—_Jason_—kissed quite softly. Just against the sensitive area riddled with nerve-endings that begged Tim to just _melt_ and have it over with. He easily found himself pushing his chest out a little, begging for more of the heat and wet touch. Not yet drawing back, Jason was much, _much_ more than happy to oblige. Usually they didn't give in so easily.

"Wanna go for a second?" he purred once it'd finished, proceeding to purposefully blow hot air onto the damp oval.

Tim could really only nod and Jason took his wrist, like the first time they'd met. It was so small compared to his – he could probably hold it in an O formed with his thumb and pinky if he so wished to further embarrass the boy. Which he didn't. Jason tongued flatly across it first, grinning as Tim shivered in delight. Then he kissed that, too, sucking as gently as possible.

_Marking_ him.

"I-I thought you would go for my mouth," Tim smiled nervously.

Pleased at the sight of yet another angry, red blotch—_just where the original had once been_—Jason murmured "If you recall, I'm actually a pretty classy guy. In amongst all my..._imperfections_, of course." Each word had him sending Tim into a little hormonal frenzy. "So, sorry to disappoint, but you don't get to kiss me until we've been on the previously-mentioned date."

Tim didn't even attempt to point out the arrogance pooling in his voice, instead slipping his hand from Jason's and stepping away.

"Keep it," Jason insisted when Tim tugged at the leather sleeve.

"Are you sure?"

Jason looked him over once. "Take care of my baby. Use the best drycleaners your allowance can buy."

"Noted. See you tomorrow, then."

"See ya."

As the adrenaline ebbed itself out of his bloodstream, Tim dropped back into the cushions. They were soft, comforting, unjudgemental.

And he thought of Jason.

And he thought of their "date".

And, against all odds, against his upbringing, against everything Jason stood for...

...he smiled.


	4. The Big Date

Tim waved good-bye to the maid, hurrying along to catch up with Jason.

"I s'pose I'm supposed to give you a compliment, right?" Jason grunted, opening the door. It wasn't a rich-kid car. Not a piece of shit, either.

"What makes you think that?" smiled Tim, with the thought that he spent _forever_ trying to choose his outfit (before he gave up and called Cassie for advice) locked firmly away from view.

"Dick told me to."

"He talked to you as well?"

"Yeah. Manipulative little fucker, isn't he?"

Tim didn't miss just how smoothly the door shut, examining the absence of scratches as Jason slid smoothly into the driver's seat.

"What's wrong with Dick?"

"He says _digitty-dawg_. _That's_ what's wrong with Dick."

"No, I mean, _he's_ smart."

"Yes...?"

Tim blushed, looked out the window. "You said you have a thing for hot nerds. Why not go for Dick? He seems rather fond of you. He can _stand _you, which is a lot more than I can say for some people."

"Watch it, Tim."

His eyes' attention turned back to Jason, whose was on the road ahead. "Did he turn you down or something?"

"Do you play Minecraft?"

"Sometimes..." he muttered.

"Well, Dick doesn't. That's problem number uno. Nerd factor goes up about one-hundred percent when you bring Minecraft in." He turned the wheel gently. "Dou is that he's my brother. Well, adopted brother, but the point still stands."

"You're Bruce Wayne's son?"

"Sure am. Not biologically, obviously."

Tim didn't like the way Jason avoided his gaze. "Why didn't I know that? I've been going around to your place with Dick for years!"

"It's not something I like to advertise and they both know it," Jason said, clearly not happy with the direction their conversation had swerved into.

Confusion had Tim's eyebrows pinching together. "Bruce is pretty cool. Why wouldn't you want people to know you're his-"

"People treat you different when they know who your parents are, alright? I don't want my friends to think that I'm this big-shot who can buy them whatever the fuck they want." His grip loosened, knuckles returning to a tone that could be recognized as normal again. "Ever heard the saying 'Don't fear the enemy that attacks you, but the fake friend who hugs you'?"

"Yes."

"Well, _that_. Now can we change the subject?" he asked heatedly.

Tim was quiet for the longest time – Jason almost began to feel guilty for growling at him.

"Almost everyone always believes I can do better than I do," he said quietly. "I get one-hundred percent in most of my classes and that's still not enough. They think that, because I've never had to work a single day in my life, I should be able to knuckle down and complete everything to a top-of-the-country standard."

"Well, can you?"

"No."

"No one has the right to tell you it's not good enough when you're trying the best you can."

"What if I'm not trying my best? What if I _can_ do better?"

"Everyone can do better. That's the beauty of it. But for everything you get better at, you lose something else. You _could_ try harder and spend all your time locked away in your room, researching and taking notes and give up on your social life," he smirked, "but then who would I hang out with after school on a Monday? You want my advice?"

Jason didn't have to look out the corner of his eye to see Tim nod.

"_Fuck 'em_."

Tim stared at him, repeated the assertive comment over and over in his ears.

"Where do you wanna go?" Jason finally asked.

"Where do _you_ want to go?"

Sparing an amused glance at the boy, he shrugged with two fingers resting lazily on the wheel. "No freakin' idea. I've just been driving around in circles, kid."

"Could we go to yours?"

"What?"

Scratching at his shoulder, pretending it wasn't something that had taken forever to spit out, Tim replied "I want to see where you live."

Jason turned the car, parked, faced Tim fully.

"The Wayne Manor. Where the fuck else?" It was easy to see that it agitated him, all these questions circulating his home life and such. If Jason had known Tim was going to be so inquisitive he would have taken him to a movie or something.

Knowing he'd hit a nerve and fighting the voices screaming at him to shut the hell up and move on, there was a short-lived quiet where the gentle hum of the engine filled the space between them. Aware that Tim was using it to buy time, Jason killed it.

"I've never seen you there," Tim answered, seeing no reason as to why he should risk looking anywhere but his hands. "I didn't know where you lived and I'd never seen you around school other than afterwards."

Jason straightened. "That's done on purpose, kid. Like I said, my friends can't know. Don't want to raise their suspicions by hanging out with the richies now, do we?"

"They're obviously not very good friends if you expect them to take advantage of you."

"I never said they _were_."

.

"This is the most romantic place in Gotham," Jason said sarcastically, gesturing with a hand at the grass patch. Less of a patch. More an off-room garden. Tim hadn't known what to expect – an hour's drive had had him wondering if Jason was going to dump his body somewhere. "Or, you know, as close as I can get."

"Where are we?"

"This is where my friends _think_ I live."

"Oh."

It wasn't much, and Tim could see old cigarette butts mushed into the soil tucked in beside the small bench. The view was interesting, though. A good look at Gotham's... _brighter_ side. He tried not to think about the fact that, should the building be mirrored, Jason and his mates would be watching a daily shower of muggers shove guns in everyone's face as they ran/drove off with the cops in pursuit.

If the cops even showed up.

Instead he sat and enjoyed the way the breeze had offered them a night of calmness instead of continuing its constant whipping of ice and chill. Their arms brushed as Jason sat beside him.

"Hey, Jason?"

"Hey, Tim."

"If you don't mind me asking, where is it... I mean, where are... Did you ever-"

"Spit it out, Boy Blunder."

Tim's tongue fought and won against the bulge of _holyshitdon'tsayit_ and asked "What happened to your parents?"

There was a pause.

It wasn't a good one.

Then Jason turned to him and his eyes burned into Tim's so darkly he was sure the stare would cause blisters. It was gone in an instant, of course, but Tim saw it.

"Who knows?" Jason shrugged. "Never knew 'em, never cared for 'em."

"Aren't you curious?"

"You can't miss something if you never had it."

Tim thought about that. Although it seemed logical, he couldn't imagine life without receiving a hug from his mother every so often or a playful cuff on the back of his head from his dad. He wasn't sure he liked them, but he did _love _them. Did Jason ever wonder what it felt like?

He didn't consider his movement, knowing he'd run from the idea if he began to touch on it too much, just snuggled in under Jason's arm and draped his own over the other's stomach.

Jason snorted. Neither boy commented, however.

"Why do you ask so many questions?" His voice was quiet and low, and his chest vibrated with the words and into Tim's ear.

"I barely know anything about you. Dick's said stuff about me, but you spend so long just being quiet while I talk about English and books and stuff that I guess you're still a stranger."

"Huh. I disagree."

It was his _challenging_ tone.

Tim's mouth twitched.

"How so?"

"Tell me things you know about literature. Key words, no pauses or hesitations."

It sounded so silly, but Tim did it anyway – more out of curiosity than anything else. "Literature – written works, words, languages, fiction, non-fiction, nouns, pronouns, adjectives, verbs, adverbs."

"What are your key words for _me_?" Jason asked, grinning down at him. The lights reflected a white and brought into attention the chip taken off the tip of his left canine.

"Stubborn, sexual, brave, boorish, hidden, masked, aggressive, selfish, kind, sneaky, brooding, a-social, articulate, controversial." Tim flicked a smirk up. "And those are just the ones that come to mind _immediately_."

Shaking his head slightly at the minor dig, Jason cast his eyes out across the buildings. "That's eleven for literature and fourteen for me. Woo-hoo. You know me better than you thought."

"Sucks for you."

.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Jason paused so abruptly that the chain on his jeans jingled – not exactly a very masculine sound. He turned and there was Tim, still standing in front of the door, not having even moved an inch. "Like what?"

"Like that thing you promised me?" It was impossible not to notice the glint on his face, that damned teasing corner of his mouth that made his smile lop-sided. "I didn't go on this date for nothing, you know."

There was an immediate response from Jason; he grinned in a way that made his expression almost mirror Tim's, but his was undoubtedly more daring and calm. Tim—unseen—wriggled his toes. Jason moved forward with his always-heavy steps and he smelled of soapy deodorant. Soon Tim was in his arms, trying to remember what he'd seen in movies, sliding his hands up to grab the collar of Jason's leather jacket—how many did he own?—and leaning into him.

It was his first kiss and it was... a little squishy, frankly. But Jason pulled away and came back, this time with a slightly-opened mouth, and Tim understood why everyone seemed to be doing it. He gave in easily to the coaxing and opened his own a little, denying his feet their seeming want to go all pigeon-toed as teeth worried his lips. Was he supposed to use tongue? Why the hell was Jason's so hot? He turned his head the other way and their noses bumped, which led to other things getting out-of-sync and they had to pause.

All too soon Jason stopped and nudged his way down Tim's neck with gentle kisses and a chuckle or two as Tim, suddenly so small, shuddered.

"G'night," he murmured. "Get inside and go to bed."

Tim tried not to stumble. He did anyway, and Jason's features morphed back into their usual form.


	5. Oh My Jason

**AN: This is placed a few days after the last bit. Also, THANKS FOR REVIEWS and can't wait for more! Remember alerts and favs are awesome but I love to hear feedback :{ Also, yes really, I am on a posting ROLL. Now all I need to do is write the second half of _Photoshoot_ (whichever part it's up to).**

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"So kid, you're in my room. Congrats." Jason lay down on his bed. Clasped his hands behind his hair, legs crossed at the ankles. "Now what?"

Tim sat beside him, fidgeting. How do you get someone in _the mood_? Does it just happen? Like in movies? Or does one have to verbally initiate such a thing?

All he knew was that he liked what Jason had done outside his front door and he wanted it to happen again. Preferably on a bed. Preferably _now_. Maybe a direct approach would better suit Jason than, say, a _High School Musical_-style surprise pash.

"We could make out," he suggested.

Jason laughed and Tim turned beetroot. "I'm sorry, kid." He reached out for the small hand that was rubbing the back of Tim's neck. It jerked away in embarrassment. "I've never had someone say that."

"I-I don't know how to do this," he admitted.

Grunting slightly as he sat up, the trademark expression was so ridiculously Jason that Tim was now certain he would have to make up a word for it. "That's okay," he answered, outstretched for the brunette once again, "coz I don't mind teaching."

The tug was pretty hard, enough to bring Tim down on top of him. Jason coughed under the weight, not quite expecting the full force to land on his chest, had kind of hoped the initiative would spark in Tim's mind to aid his own damned falling.

"All those brains in your fancy-ass noggin? Yeah," he nodded, "they're there to make up for your complete lack of grace."

Tim blushed as he was moved around, shifted until his face was directly above Jason's. Nerves ramming in the back of his throat, he pressed his lips clumsily to those below, trying his best to keep the sloppiness to a minimum. Not seeming to mind the little tremors rippling through Tim's fingers, the older teen pressed lightly onto his spine. Forced Tim a little closer. Begged with light touches up his back to _relax_.

However, too scared to continue with the awkward tongue-touching-tongue, teeth-knocking-teeth, nose-against-nose nonsense, Tim instead found himself edging downwards, over Jason's chin. Along his collarbone. Pride almost out-shining the jitters as the breathing hitched under his mouth. The constant re-adjusting of the neckline was worth it, just to explore new areas, new sensitivities, new ways of making Jason's lungs stutter and his hands move.

It was almost, _so almost_, a moan that escaped. The coiled mixture of a shaken breath and a name. Tim took this as encouragement, noting that Jason had now reached and tested the waters of touching his butt. Just the side, and just briefly, but definitely a touch. Possibly a squeeze.

And soon he was being rolled over, Jason chuckling as they both turned their heads the same way not once, not twice, but _three times_, finding Tim's embarrassment to be quite funny. They got it right on the fourth try, a cross of biting and sucking at the boy's lower lip. Then he moved to the left, dug his teeth into Tim's earlobe and drew out some hushed sounds. Jason smirked.

"You're sensitive, kid," he teased, Tim watching warily out the corner of his eye. "Don't worry – I'm not gonna hurt you."

It was a lie, of course – the pleasure didn't come without a price. Every so often were the occasional semicircles of pain, and Tim would wince then gratefully settle after each one as Jason gentled down to his chest; "Sit up a little."

"What-"

"Shirt." Jason shoved it right up to his armpits, kissing hotly across his bare skin. "Gotta say, you're pretty pale."

"Not a lot of tanning opportunities in Gotham," answered Tim, careful not to sound too excited. But...

Lips paused, just having reached the ribs not quite sticking out.

"Jason?"

"Kid, you're tenting."

Tim sighed in annoyance – he'd known. He'd realised in the way his blood pounded and his back lifted itself off the bed. Was kind of hoping Jason wouldn't notice just so this could continue. "Um. Okay. Get off."

Jason moved out from between his legs, turning to the side for a little space. Of course, not all the space in the world could turn Tim's face back to its peachy tone any sooner than a good few minutes. So they waited it out, Jason drumming his fingers on his own lean stomach, wondering when he could expect the action to pick up again.

Not that Tim was enjoying the time out. Jason made him feel warm. Tingly. _Good_. A lot of things, actually, and none of them bad. Somehow, in the past few months, he had woken up this part of Tim's brain that he'd really only tapped into with either meditation or quite some lube and his own hand. But now he had a _partner_ – someone who made him laugh and gasp and ache between his thighs. Which currently he was. He didn't want to draw further attention to it by adjusting his clothing, but the discomfort was just _awful_...

"Want to have another go?" Jason asked five minutes later, half-entertaining himself with the radio stations. He paused with an upward tilt of his chin at Tim, who bit his lip as he recognized the lyrics. Not really one for pop music, the song was still awaiting a name and artist in the music category of Tim's mind, but it involved blowing whistles and Jason seemed to get a kick out of it.

Realising that there had indeed been a question in need of an answer, Tim nodded, allowing Jason to resume their first position. Tim settled better this time, smoother. Let his tongue venture out against Jason's lips and skin.

Oh, he could really, _really_ get used to this...

Then-

"Ow! Jesus, Jason!" He examined the mark on his shoulder, the indents of the other's front and canine teeth along with six of his bottom ones. "That _hurt!_"

"I'm sorry, Tim," sighed Jason, trying to pull him back on. Tim didn't budge. "You have no idea how sexy you look when you're in pain. People tend to make the same expressions when they're being hurt as when they're in ecstasy."

Cheeks already flushed, it was difficult to tell that Tim's face was burning. "Th-that's still no excuse," he stammered, focus wavering as a hand crept towards his bellybutton.

Jason sat up with him, leaning his weight into his palm behind him. "Then let's try _this one_ on for size – I have fantasized about something as horribly fluffy as _cuddling_ for a good couple of months. It's never taken this long to seduce someone, let alone a boy who's blatantly near bursting point with hormones. Usually it's only a matter of days before their cock's out. You?" He shook his head. "Not even a few _weeks_."

Tim couldn't help it – he smiled at the flat, pursed line of Jason's lips, at the annoyed twitches of his nose, at the self-disappointment in his eyes. "You know, when you're not busy being an asshole, you're actually quite sweet."

A roll of grey eyes made Tim laugh, then kiss him again. His phone vibrated in his back pocket and Jason handed it to him—_"Make it quick, kid."_—with a tongue on Tim's Adam's apple.

"M-mom?" Apparently Jason was getting him back for the previous comment, digging his fingers into muscles across his back.

"_Tim? Hey, honey! I was just wondering when you're planning on being home?_"

"When I'm planning on being home..." he repeated slowly. Jason held up eight fingers so Tim said "Seven," to spite him.

"_You're not at that boy's place, are you? He was wearing a chain on his jeans._"

"Mom, _that boy_ has a name."

"_So you _are_ at his?_"

"Yes."

"_What's the address, sweetie? We'll send someone to pick you up if you want._"

"No, thanks. See you later."

"_But wait-_"

"Parents not like me?" Jason chuckled. "What a shock."

Still on his knees, Tim trembled when that tongue met with his left nipple. "Don't take it personally – they don't like any boys. For a while, they didn't even approve of Dick."

"Is it coz you're gay?"

The question had Tim's eyelids fluttering open. Even though it'd been murmured against sensitive skin, lovely in every feeling possible, it still hit a bad nerve. "Yeah, it is." Jason paused. He shouldn't have said it. He _knew_ he shouldn't have said it. "They're still in denial," he went on, shrugging as though it didn't bother him in the slightest. Jason saw it, though – the suspicious shine in his eyes, even as Tim looked away.

"They'll get over it," Jason assured him, letting the hem of Tim's shirt drop back into place.

It was a sad smile. "They've had two years to get over it – they still try to set me up with girls from other top-class families. Telling me what I'm doing is wrong and ungodly and filthy." There was a brief moment where neither of them knew what to say or how to respond to the lack of oral communication. "Anyway, forget it. Just them having an oldie moment."

But there was no way Jason could just _forget it_. Soon he found himself hugging Tim, who was too surprised and immobile—straddling Jason's lap, strong arms around his shoulders—and pressing his lips to the boy's temple.

"I don't believe anyone is perfect – everybody's got a little shittiness in them. But you're pretty close, Tim. I mean, you sure as hell don't deserve someone like me and I sure as _fuck_ don't deserve you, but know that I can promise I don't think you're any of those things."

Tim wouldn't let himself cry, not like he had with Dick, but returned the hug and laughed softly.

"I think making out brings forth the softness in you, Jason."

"If you tell anyone, make no mistake – I _will_ hurt you."

"I never thought you'd be the type to go... gently."

"No use ruffling a bird's feathers if you want in on its pants."

"Oh."

Jason snorted. "That, kid, was a _joke_."


	6. In The Dirt

**AN: Decided to go for that lovely, knuckles-in-the-red Jason we all know and love 3 Enjoy and remember - leaving a little review isn't going to kill anybody!**

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Not a lot of things were particularly appealing at Gotham once it hit seven o' clock, not even in schools. One had every right to look twice into the dark that seemed to grow and swell before their eyes, though you would count yourself lucky if it was nothing more than a drunken teenager.

Five _high_ teenagers, though?

Not so lucky.

"Hey, pretty boy," one of them crowed, "where ya headin' with that nice coat?"

Tim didn't bat his eyes once.

_Don't let them see your fear. Don't let them know you're scared._

It was silly, really – no-one got into Gotham Academy if their parents weren't living on the richer side.

"How's about you lend me it for the evening? It's a little chilly."

That being said, nobody got rich by allowing their offspring to steal cash to buy certain substances for lighting up after hours. Usually they weren't of any harm, but Tim knew these weren't _usual_ circumstances when a tall senior (recognized from the basketball trophy case in the hallway) stepped into his path.

"It's rude to ignore your elders, shrimp."

Tim's fingers tightened around his geography book.

"Yeah, hand it over!"

When the boy didn't, the first guy smirked. "Yo, you deaf? C'mon, shrug it off, givit here and we'll walk away happy men."

"There's nothing _manly_ about stealing from children," Tim told him bravely.

_Well, shit_.

If Tim stared straight ahead he would be face-to-chest, and it only took one hand to shove him firmly. Tim imagined the sick sound his head would make, the cracks of his wrists when he went to save himself, the pain on his butt cheek when it hit the gravel.

But there was a wall behind him – a wall whose fingers wrapped around his arms and held them steady.

"Gregory, fancy seeing you here."

Gregory's eyes widened almost comically, and he was suddenly very small, even in comparison to Tim. "Jason, wait, I di'n't know-"

However, Jason had never been known for his love of pleasantries, and a firm fist sent a grimace-inducing _crohk_ echoing around them. The wingmen stupidly decided to step in at that moment, and was Jason _grinning_? Tim knew he had been right, just as the former's foot struck the one to the left _smack_ in the jaw, and a swift punch to the other's gut. He recovered well from each swing taken at him—from the ones that actually reached their target—returning the favour with his own.

Each time Tim squeezed his eyes shut reflexively it was always Jason's hits, always Jason smirking and grunting, always Jason's knuckles turning redder from the force.

Tim watched in awe – how did he move like that? And in _jeans_, for Christ's sake?

A step to the left, never leaving Tim in harm's way, and Jason was between two of them. While they were prepared to fight dirty—aiming for Jason's crotch and neck—the red-head was fair, clever, throwing them down and smoothly delivering a knee to the brunette's stomach as he went.

The three squirmed on the ground, whining, trying to scuttle, tears mixing with the blood that seeped from their noses and the corners of their mouths.

"You stay away from him, understood?" Jason growled, spitting a mix of saliva and crimson onto the ground. All the smoky tendrils of amusement had burned out, leaving a blazing anger in his grey eyes. "He's _mine_. Don't fucking _touch_ him, don't _talk_ to him, and God help those sorry asses if you _hurt_ him."

Then his rough grip met with the back of Tim's neck; "C'mon, kid." Tim tried to check over his shoulder, but Jason's iron fingers stopped him from doing so. When they were out of earshot—not that the three wannabe-thugs could hear anything other than pounding, Tim guessed—Jason faced him properly. "The fuck're you thinking, leaving out of the West entrance?"

"What were _you_ doing there?" Tim retorted.

"I was at a mate's. Believe it or not, I have friends outside of you and Dick. Anyway, he got a text about some retard spotted late at school from dear little Greg. No prizes for knowing who said _retard_ was."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

"Welcome."

"Tim, will Jason be needing a ride?" the driver asked, opening the door for him.

"Got my own, but thanks for the offer," replied Jason. "Tim, don't make me do this again."

.

Jason's eyes flicked over at the digital clock in his car. Man, why did Tim have to get himself into these things? Not that Greg and his little buddies could have done any serious damage...

He smacked the wheel.

Two taps on his passenger-side window barely broke his train of grumpy thoughts. He wound it down.

"Tim? Did your driver have a heart attack?"

"No, Jason. Can I get a lift with you?"

"Did he spontaneously burst into tears and proclaim your maid his secret love?"

"_No_, Jason."

"Get in."

"Thank you."

It smelled like Jason, but it also smelled like Tim. Jason couldn't remember ever spending so much time with a boy that his prized belongings began to become coated in their scent. Even his jerseys, his favourite clothes, held that _something_ he couldn't quite place.

Piping up against the hum of the engine, Tim clenched his jaw. "Jason."

"Tim."

"You said, after the fight, that I... that I'm yours."

Jason momentarily took his gaze off of the road ahead. "You are, aren't you?"

It was dumb enough to be a backseat-driver when it came to Jason, but a million times worse to physically take the wheel. Tim didn't seem to care; he gently tilted it to the right and told Jason "Park it."

"Fucking arrogant kid," muttered Jason, pulling the lever back all the same.

Tim's lips pursed as he bit back a reply, instead choosing to turn at his hips a little. "Jason, I'm not an object, and we're not official... are we? You can't claim me."

"Yes I can – you're mine," Jason stated, "and I'm yours."

Tim blinked. "You are?"

"Just because it's not on Facebook doesn't mean it's not real. If I wanted to get it on and split then I would have. But I haven't. I won't." He shuffled around in the glove compartment, pulling out a small box. "Actually I was planning on waiting for this, but since Impatient Timmy has decided to make an appearance I suppose now is as good a time as any."

It clacked open to reveal a silver chain that boasted a little "T". Simple but pleasing to the eye.

"I figured it was less gay than a necklace, so your parents won't lose their rag if you clip it onto your jeans, but you could wear it as one if you want." He placed it in Tim's hands. "Whatever, yours now. Congrats."

"Jason..."

"Yeah, well, I bet you feel like a right prick now."

Tim's fingers slid from his lap to interlock with Jason's. "Thanks. I love it."

Jason smiled. "Good. So how about it, Timmy? Be my boyfriend? Be _official_?"

Well, it's not like he could say _no_. "Duh."

The seatbelt clicked undone, giving Tim the room to reach up to Jason. Despite everything, Jason returned the kiss with tenderness, a sweet series of wet pecks. Gently, he removed the chain from its threading between the kid's fingers and laced it around his neck, running his lips along the lines of his collarbone.

"Looks good on you," he murmured.

"I'd hope so," grinned Tim. "Expensive, I'm guessing?"

What he said wasn't even that funny, but Jason laughed and Tim followed suit.


	7. Some Time Alone

**AN: Please review. If you love me, you'll do it.**

* * *

"Jason, Jason, Jason," Tim grimaced as his forehead touched the cold, wet condensation, "where the hell are you?"

12:10.

12:10 and Jason was due there at 12:00.

He'd never been this late before.

His breath fogged up the glass, the tapping of his foot filling up the whole room, possibly even the house. His parents were at a party, the butler shopping, and his cat was outside plotting world domination. Or something.

Everything was perfect.

Just as he went the wipe the white from his window, that unforgettable black car appeared from around the corner. Sunlight glinted lovingly off the hot-red stripes down either side and Tim grinned, then realised that Jason wasn't far from his front door and scrambled into his chair. It was only when his eyes scanned the page and noted the names "Jacob" and "Edward" that- Oh. Oh crap. Cassie had left her _Twilight_ books over.

_Shit, Drake – find another one. Find another one and find it quickly-_

"Trying to make it look like you're reading so I won't know you've been waiting for me? Nice."

Tim smirked—a habit he'd picked up from a certain individual (not that he was going to play the blame game)—and turned. Jason was leaning against the doorframe. "You can't spank a guy for trying, right?"

"Can't?" Jason chuckled, clicking the lock on the only exit. "And if I do? I can see where you've rubbed your sleeve down the glass, egg-head."

"You're ten minutes late – I wouldn't push my luck if I were you."

"A whole six hundred seconds. I'm really stressing these boundaries." Tim's eyes were locked on his mouth as he spoke, lips seductively forming each word as he pressed his body close, cornered Tim in the wall. "Gotta keep up my rebellious image, kid."

"Reputation more important than me? What else?"

"Hm?"

Tim stole a glance to catch the other's gaze. "Why were you late?"

"Golfing. Rich father-son activity."

Tim grinned and didn't wait for Jason to lean in – with all the kissing they'd done, he felt comfortable enough to simply edge up on his tip-toes and plant one right on the red-head's mouth. Tim liked the way his jersey crinkled under Jason's fingers. He liked the way they fit so perfectly against one another. Oh, and the older boy's knee between his thigh.

He liked that a lot, actually.

Grinding was about the furthest they'd gotten since their first kiss two months ago. Usually it was just to ease the throbbing between their legs that reminded them of their teenaged-boy demands, but when Tim shoved Jason away and against the window, his hand slipped over his jeans and squeezed.

"Golfing, huh?" He rubbed just over Jason's fly, watched as his boyfriend bit his lip. "You didn't have to bring your kit over, you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's not here?"

"'course not. Dropped it off with Bruce."

"So that's not a golf club in your pocket?" Tim teased. "Then I guess you must just be happy to see me."

Jason's head lolled back in sarcastic laughter. His hormones wanted this – his body _needed_ it. His dick was already pulsing lightly, with Tim, _his_ Tim, kissing the easily-accessed area of his throat. The trembles that passed through his body turned his face pink. No-one had ever been aggressive like this kid was with him before.

"Undo your belt."

With a roll of eyes and a small smile on his face, Jason raised a thick brow. "What? Fingers broken or something, Timmy?"

"If I'm going to get you hard, jerk you off and anything in-between then you can undo your own belt," retorted Tim, giving Jason's ass a squeeze.

"Point taken." Jason lifted the metal square, threaded the black leather through it. His fingers brushed against studs that reflected misty versions of the pair, then Tim's as the younger boy slid his hand beneath the waistband and palmed the crotch. Jason exhaled.

The taller pushed his hips, alternating the pressures with slow thrusts that made his length realise it was receiving attention. He tilted Tim's chin up and kissed him gently, his hands sliding down the younger's sides and to his butt, effectively pulling him closer. He rolled his pelvis forward, made a light sound, loud enough for Tim to grin, leaning his forehead against the seventeen-year-old's chest. With a smirk, Jason shivered and Tim held his cock through the stretchy materiel of his underwear. His cheeks took on colour one shade darker when Tim yanked it lightly, massaging it in his palm, _pinching_ the sides to get the blood going.

Tim held his breath as he snapped the band off and down, the head of Jason's dick poking out. He suddenly had the urge to say something stupid, to joke and greet it as a way of fooling (with a debatable level of success) his boyfriend into thinking he wasn't overflowing with anxiety. He didn't want to be what Jason hated – fumbling and clumsy and immature. Instead he thought of things that turned him on. Things that were relative to the mood he was trying to create. He thought of that time in the library and tried to remember the techniques Jason had used on himself. A proud wave pranced through his body as Jason's mouth opened just a tad, his breathing deepening and the whisper of the younger boy's name husky, rough.

He thought of that face but on a naked body. Predictably, he thought of sex. Tim had wondered for a while now what sleeping with Jason would be like. At first, his imagination had wondered into the realms of a good, hard fucking that would end with his black locks being gripped, fingers entwining in chunks of strands and using them to push his head into the mattress. It involved swearing and pain. A good kind, though, like when you stretch all cat-like first thing in the morning. Steamy, sweaty, loud and in the apartment he brought his friends to.

Then he'd seen this new—rare—side of the red-head who cursed at teachers and barely needed to send a glare someone's way to get what he wanted. The new fantasy had soft fingers running down Tim's cheek, the ones of his other hand easing themselves in. Their positions wouldn't be anything special. Intimate, though, with access to Tim's ear, maybe his neck as well. It didn't sound like the most romantic thing on Earth, but Tim couldn't resist the idea of going face down, ass up. Maybe it was too much to ask for the whole experience to end with cuddling.

Meanwhile, in reality, Jason shimmied his pants further, fully exposing himself to Tim's widened eyes. Maybe it was just him, or maybe Jason really had gotten bigger since the last time Tim saw it. Either way, it made his heart skip—and not in a good way—as he predicted the reaction he would receive when it was time for him to get it out. He bit his lip and adjusted the crotch of his shorts as Jason's hand glided over his first one.

"A little tighter," he advised, squeezing his fist. Tim once again visualized the way Jason had done it. His hands were clammy and his heart shivering with the thought of making a total douche of himself by not being able to get the older teen off. This was a sickening basket-ball sized knot in his stomach, cast away as licking his suddenly chalk-like lips became a sign for Jason to resume his nuzzling. Nuzzling turned into pressing on Tim's back, then the shrug of Jason's leather jacket—seriously, how many did he have?—and the muscles caught Tim's eye again. There was _just_ enough room to move around and still keep his sight locked on how they moved. The way in which Jason touched him was reassuring and secure, which was exactly what he needed. On the bright side, Jason's breathing had become irregular and sharp. The hair on his arms stood as Tim shoved his shirt up and grinned, so Jason pulled it off then over, mirroring Tim's expression with more than just a _little_ smugness, resting even more against the window frame.

"_Your hands_, kid," he murmured to the ceiling. He hummed deep in the back of his throat. Tim blushed and worried the skin of Jason's collarbone, his toes wriggling into the carpet. "Damn, your hands..." Tim waited for more, but that was apparently the best compliment he was going to receive.

The movements slowed, not to an uncomfortable degree, the touch on his chest dropping to circle and then clutch his base. His fist tightened and released, increasing the blood that pulsed within Jason's engorged member. Jason moaned and pushed forward – the added thrusts made Tim lose the pattern so he distracted Jason with kisses whilst trying to find it again.

When he did, thanks to Jason pretty much fucking his hand, the red-head was far too close to focus on anything anyway. He let out a low cry, some more pants, then an echo of the first sound and came. Tim was in the worst possible position, his lips pressed to the bone of Jason's hip, so he squeezed his eyes shut and froze.

"Really?" he asked, raising himself. "No warning? Not even a... a..."

Jason's head lolled forward, just smiling—not grinning, not smirking, not sneering; _smiling_—in the most blissful expression Tim had ever seen. His forehead, nose and chin were shining, his cheeks still tinged with colour, but the boy had never seen anything more perfect.

"I knew, Tim, from the first moment I saw you," he managed in his high, "that you would look great with my cum on your face."

Tim remembered it was Jason and looked away from the happy satisfaction that filled every pore. He turned on his heel and made a beeline for the bathroom.

The reflection that stared back had swollen lips and white dripping from his brow and cheek. Tim splashed his face and scrubbed with a facecloth hastily, not quite pleased even when he looked back up to see no visual trace. It wasn't as though he had time to be picky, though, because Jason was patient as fuck.

"KID."

And "fuck" wasn't very patient at all.

"I'm coming." Tim smirked as he re-entered to find Jason had made himself very much at home, lounging out on the double-bed with his eyes closed. He absently patted the pillow to his side, so Tim crawled across to reach it.

Jason, however, seized the opportunity and held Tim's hips still.

"You look high," the younger teen told him.

"Afterglow. It's nice."

Tim nodded awkwardly. Jason stroked his back to coax him closer, to bring their mouths together, to _cuddle_.

"Do you always get like this afterwards?"

"Mmhm," replied Jason, his lips sloppily tracing the shape of Tim's earlobe. The boy trembled lightly in response, his breath hot on Jason's chest. "What about you? Do I get to find out?"

"Hm? Find out what?"

Jason's hand slipped between their bodies, forming a tight grip on the front of Tim's pants. Tim paused.

"Oh, um, no, thanks."

It was new, this expression. Tim's heart sank as he added up all the factors of Jason's features and concluded that it was _hurt_. He sighed and scooted off, lying down beside the man instead.

"Jason-"

"Why not?"

The heat in his face was pulsing uncomfortably and he looked in the opposite direction. Jason grunted, sat up, a leg on either side, and held himself over Tim. The latter had no choice but to look at his grey eyes, the pupils which had since shrunk from their dilated circles of black. Jason smelled like sweat that didn't stink—yet—mixed with grass. No answer came back other than Tim swallowing.

"Kid."

Tim sucked his lip.

Jason pushed his jaw forward and relaxed, smiled softly, transparently. "Okay. Alright. Don't worry about it, then," he said quietly.

"No, it's not what you think," he tried to explain.

"Seriously, if you're not ready then you're not ready," he shrugged, letting his body fall back to its original position.

The silence wasn't good.

It was very, very awkward.

"Jason, I don't think I... It's not..." Why were words so much more difficult when Jason's eyes watched him like that? "I just don't think I quite, um, _measure up_."

It was the worst reaction possible; Jason barked out a hearty laugh, and it _really_ didn't help his case. Tim huffed and turned over.

"Aw, no, don't be mad, kid. I-I didn't mean to make fun of you." His touch on Tim's shoulder had no effect; the boy jerked away and crossed his arms. Jason's mouth screwed up. He edged closer. His hand squirmed around under Tim's side until the boy allowed it, along with his arm, to snake underneath. Then his other one latched on, Tim reactively wriggling and growling at him.

"_Jason._"

"You keep saying my name like it's supposed to deter me."

"Don't, don't! It's so embarrassing."

"Be logical. I can't even see. Anyway, Timmy, I really don't care," insisted Jason. "'sides, your dick's probably not-"

"It _is_, though," he groaned into the pillow.

"Relax," Jason whispered.

It made the boy shiver and he relented, most of the stiffness leaving his body. "_Fine_. But I swear, if you say anything-"

The grip Tim had on his boyfriend's arm tightened when his lower hand drew further down still until it swept between his thighs, opening them, giving the space to clutch loosely on... a certain place. Tim bit his lip and suddenly he could only think of one thing – well, a few, actually, but really only on a single subject. One was that Jason was _massaging_ his cock over his clothing. Two was the warm breathing on his spine. Three was the fantasy laid in front of him, unravelling like a lolly wrapper in the hands of a child who couldn't wait to stick the sweet in their mouth. Tim's lips twitched against his teeth at the idea—right as Jason's started making themselves useful (for things other than insults and blunt opinions) on his neck—because the chances were in the favour of him _dying_ of butterflies the day Jason gave him head.

"For such an uptight person, you sure are easy to turn on," Jason commented, a low murmur in Tim's ear.

Tim felt it unworthy of a response, but went along anyway because he knew it was how Jason's interaction worked.

"I'm not uptight... I just like to—_ah_—wait till I'm completely comfortable with somebody."

"So you're comfortable with me? Oh, Timmy, I'm flattered." It was a mixture of the grin on Jason's face and the things going on down his pants that made Tim shiver. Jason switched hands, careful with his timing, and gently rubbed the boy's shoulder.

Tim gasped and covered his own mouth a half-second later. Jason's brows furrowed when he apologized meekly.

"Hey, if you wanna make noise then it's cool with me."

Tim swallowed. "You'll laugh."

"I promise I won't," he chuckled. "Sheesh, you're so paranoid. When do I ever make fun of you?"

"I'm not even going to answer that."

"You know what I mean."

So, with this in mind, Tim eagerly let out the shaky "_Ah!_" he'd been holding back. Jason licked his lips, delved beneath the last layer.

"Oh," he realised, swallowing. "You... You're cut."

"Is that a problem?" Tim asked hesitantly.

Jason snickered. "'course not. Where's your lube?"

Tim couldn't imagine a sexier way to ask that question. "In the second drawer. The key's under my lamp."

Jason grunted as he rolled away, lying on his side as he unlocked and then tugged on the handle. "Huh. Got enough porn in here?"

The nerves in Tim's erection tingled pleasantly as he gave it a subtle squeeze. "Yeah, Dick bought those for me. Makes me look like a bit of a pervert, right?"

"As if," Jason snorted. His lips pursed, however – he'd be giving a certain acrobat a _very_ stern talking-to about the particularly dirty ones. "Although, there are a few comments I could make about your organization skills."

"Honestly, I don't really think about that after I'm done. Speaking of which, this isn't really the most... comfortable... thing..."

"Well, I don't know where the fuck you think you put your love lotion, but it ain't in here."

"It totally is. Look, move over."

Jason bit back a comment about the obvious tent of Tim's pants, gnawing the words between his teeth as the boy bent over. He couldn't tell how purposeful it was, but Tim's butt was too close to his knee to not be noted as an opportunity.

"See?" Tim exclaimed smugly. "Right at the back."

Jason parted his legs and grabbed Tim's hips, yanking him to sit in the middle.

"Oh. Hello."

The blush was a telltale sign of the teen's arousal, and Jason bit and licked at his ear, chuckling as Tim gulped. He ran his open hands down Tim's back and up to his ribs, then created a V right for his crotch.

"Pleasejustdoit," Tim breathed. "I know you're... well... _you_, but try and have a little mercy."

Jason undid the shorts' fly and tugged at the beltloops until he could comfortably do the same with the briefs Tim wore. Pressing soft, hot kisses to his jaw, his cheek, his neck, his shoulder, Jason pumped a fair amount of pink lube into his palm and wrapped it around Tim's length.

Tim sighed at the contact. It was a sigh of relief, followed by the arch of his spine as Jason took a firmer grip. The red-head moved his fist up and down, following gentle directions from Tim's whispers until he had the basics down and dusted so that he could focus completely on the sounds that Tim was letting slip. Jason turned the boy's head and pressed their lips together, slowing enough to let Tim concentrate. The younger did, however, rock his hips, adding tongue into the mix and acting on any impulse that came his way. This whole thing was so new to him and he felt like there was some virginity being lost. Not _the_ virginity, but _a_ virginity.

A small movement of his wrist and Jason was bringing back the attention, the human warmth, churning his wet grip at the cost of Tim's attention.

"_Lower_," he commanded, groaning once again.

Jason caught Tim's earlobe between his teeth as the index finger and thumb of his other hand formed a loop around the base. "Here?"

Tim shook his head despite the restricted movement until Jason held his balls in his palm.

"Here?"

Tim gasped before he answered. "Yes, and– yeah, do that!"

Jason winced as Tim's nails dug into his thigh, the denim hardly a useful shield from the sharp crescents. He could feel the member in his hands throbbing, hard as a rock, slippery, almost like wet rubber. The strokes became full pumps, quick slides of his fist, drawing out pants and sharp "_Ah!_" sounds.

Tim knew he was close, because things were tensing in familiarly amazing ways; his voice betrayed him as he choked out Jason's name, and then repeated it with varying degrees of loudness until he came.

He rested his head back on Jason's shoulder, eyes shut as he tried to regain some of the oxygen he'd lost. All of his blood had flooded South, with none left in his head to ask Jason when he'd managed to pick up that tissue or the baby wipe he was using to remove the excess lube. It was only thanks to the automatic side of his brain that he lifted his butt enough for Jason to make him decent again, though he did get himself lying out on the bed without too much trouble.

"That was..." His smile remained despite the word-loss. "...something. You're good."

"Practise," Jason grinned.

Tim's smile almost faltered at that. However, the feelings were still swimming around his body, and he really didn't have the energy to care yet.

"You're not as small as you think," Jason murmured.

"Heh. Feels bigger than it is, I'm sure."

"No, I saw it," he replied nonchalantly. "Maybe you should consider your position further next time – not directly opposite a mirror, for example?"

Tim blinked and sighed. "Just cuddle with me, Jason, and stop the flattery."

Jason held himself over Tim again, a knee on either side, and smiled. "Whatever you say, Timmy."


	8. Stay With Me

**AN: Mornings should be illegal.**

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* * *

"Jason."

The teen's head swam with remnants of sleep still in his vision. Too early to see, let alone _think_. He told himself he'd imagined the voice, that no-one in their right mind would be up at that hour, and was just about to rest his head back on that sweet, sweet pillow when two insistent knocks aborted the idea completely.

"_Jason_. Open up, for crying out loud!"

"Damn Dick," he muttered, hand smearing across his cheek in an attempt to rub his eyes. That would have been an easy task, had he not been lying on his arm for the past couple of hours. "Open it yourself, Miss Gotham." He heard murmuring outside. His brother wasn't alone.

Of course, company didn't necessarily insure manners.

More murmuring, then the doorknob turned. Jason's eyelids tightened for a moment.

"Jason?"

That woke him right up. The sound of a blocked nose and a forcibly-controlled voice. He looked into the darkness, scanning the silhouette that stood meekly in his doorway. Everything was too bright, still _way_ too early, as the switch was hit.

"I'll leave you two alone, huh?" Dick asked, giving Tim's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"No. Stay. I don't think... I don't think I..."

But he didn't finish, instead wiping his eyes with his sleeves.

Jason and Dick shared a look. It wasn't that Jason didn't like having Dick around, and the eighteen-year-old was _fantastic_ when it came to comforting. However, one silent word that Dick formed with his mouth made Jason change his mind.

"Parents."

Dick dropped the bag as Jason nodded, giving Tim's head a little kiss before letting himself out. Jason wanted to leap straight at Tim, to wrap him up in hugs and a duvet and words that would (maybe) soothe the red on his cheeks and the bloated veins in his eyes. First, though, he had to throw on a shirt. It was yesterday's, yes, from the floor, yes, but it didn't really matter, because Tim returned the embrace with open arms and ragged breathing.

"N-nice boxers."

"Didn't know I'd be receiving fashion critique in the wee hours. Did you expect me to sleep in a suit?"

"Honestly, I don't know _what_ I was expecting."

It was the first time he'd seen Tim cry, and he felt bad when the feeling that it was quite cute flashed through his head, only to be smothered by self-disgust. He briefly inspected for bruises, more relieved than ever when none could be seen.

"You wanna come to my bed?" he asked.

Tim shook his head, floppy hair swishing slightly, and murmured, "Don't feel like sleeping, but you can, if you want. I'll do homework or something."

"Do you want to talk?"

"Not really."

Jason didn't like the idea of Tim staying awake at that time in the morning, and he stood awkwardly (a weird look for Jason) until an idea sprang to mind;

"Do you wanna take a bath?" he suggested.

A look of uncertainty rose on Tim's face as he thought it over, though the look of delight beforehand hadn't gone unnoticed. "I dunno... It's someone else's house and I don't want to impose-"

Jason snorted. "You're at the _Wayne Manor_, kid – I don't think the Queen of fuckin' England could _impose_." He chucked some towels at his boyfriend, who caught them with ease. "I'll get out your jammies and stuff – you focus on yourself."

Once he heard water start shooting from the shower head, Jason pulled the zipper of the duffel bag. He bit his lip. Tim had packed light, but enough for a few days, which only egged his curiosity on further. Damn, what he wouldn't give to interrogate Tim about tonight's happenings.

Before he had a chance to ponder on the subject, the boy in question stuck his head into the room.

"I... um... I was just going to ask if you wanted to share the bath with me. It's huge after all." His mouth turned into a small smile. "No hanky-panky. Just a bath."

Jason grinned. "Are there bubbles in it?"

"Fuck yeah."

"Then give me a minute – I'm so in."

The moment the sliding door met with its frame, however, Jason's expression flattened.

He caught a glimpse of blue.

Tim's nightshirt.

He decided to chance it – with a quick glance at the bathroom, he held the item of clothing to his nose and inhaled. Doing so made him feel like a creep, but it also comforted him. Tim's shampoo. Tim's deodorant. Tim's sweat.

Air in the bathroom was steamy, humid, and smelled like strawberries. Jason opened the shower door, twisted the knob, gripped his own top, only to hear "_Rad-dah-dadaduh_..." quietly from the tub.

He turned on his heel and grinned, swaying his hips with sharp sweeps, edging the garment up and over his head. He wasn't sure where it landed, but Tim made little cheer noises, careful not to wake up the people who were still sleeping. Next were the socks, but there was no particularly sexy way to remove them that came to mind, so Jason hurried both to the floor before hesitating at the waistband of his boxers.

"Take 'em off!" Tim crowed.

So he did, with little class to his name, his hands not leaving the fabric until it pooled at his feet. As he straightened, there wasn't a failure to notice where Tim's eyes stuck.

"Still don't want no _hanky-panky_?" Jason teased. "Coz you totally had _me _fooled with that look on your face."

Tim's site finally rose. "Well, now that you mention it-"

"Nuh-uh. That was a joke, kid. No action for you tonight. Not with the state you're in."

He closed the glass door behind him.

Sex swam around Jason's head a fair bit. Okay, a lot. He thought about it under the duvet, in his desk chair, in the shower. He thought about it with Tim, with Tim and his hands and that face and his sharp little moans that cut through Jason's breathing like glass. He wondered if that was going to happen—the majority of men-on-men relationships in their teens didn't get it on regularly—and the mental images made his body heat up even more than the water did. He felt eyes on his back as he soaped his body up into a froth-monster.

Tim looked like he was sleeping when he got out, so peaceful that Jason debated over whether or not he should even get in. In honesty, he didn't know if control would be possible if they were both together... naked... wet...

"You're dripping on the floor," Tim told him.

So Jason put one foot in, then the other, and sank down until everything up to his neck was covered. There was plenty of room to spread out, even with the other person, but Jason moved right up to Tim, pressing the sides of their shoulders together. The bubbles burst and fizzled as he moved, but eventually even those noises stopped, leaving them in total silence. Goosebumps on his legs soon flattened out again as he adjusted to the temperature – which was rather hot, if he was being honest. Not uncomfortably so. Just a few degrees higher than his usual bath.

Nevertheless, he leant his neck into the curve specifically designed for such purposes. Jason couldn't stand hotel bathrooms, simply because they were nothing compared to what he was used to.

Jason both dreaded and couldn't wait for the day he moved out. As a lot of teenagers would see it, the change would mean _freedom_. No more would he have to drive under two blocks to arrive out a fake garage to avoid paparazzi (the tunnel was his twelfth birthday present). Nor would he need to clean his room whenever Alfred made the mistake of entering before he had a chance to shove the mess under his bed.

At the same time, however, the idea terrified him.

Money wasn't the issue – not because he could bum off Bruce—_definitely_ not because of that—but because his job, combined with the tips with some women who appreciated the help of a young, well-built man, paid well enough to get him at least _started_.

No, this was in no way the source of his worries.

He would squeeze his eyes shut in humiliation whenever he thought about the real fear of moving out.

Loneliness.

No Dick coming home from parties drunk and more affectionate than ever, often coming into the red-head's room for cuddles at 2am. Or, worse, _noogies_.

No more Alfred tutting at him when he let loose a casual swear directed at either the TV or his laptop.

No more Bruce clasping a tight, warm grip on his shoulder, or the occasional hugs on those days when luck wasn't exactly on Jason's side.

The way to deal with these thoughts of sadness and _grief_ was to remember that he could always visit. Besides this, there was the possibility that maybe Tim could keep him company. If they were still together (unlikely). If not Tim then another boy.

"Jason?"

"Mm?"

"What's Bruce like?" asked Tim.

Jason blinked lazily. "He's as cool as the next guy's dad, I guess. Richer, though. And he gets his chest and back waxed."

"What about women?"

A shrug of Jason's shoulders disturbed the water slightly. "We don't talk about it, but I don't think he's had a lot of luck with ladies. I think... I think Bruce gets lonely." He sighed. "Dick and I used to feel bad, back when we first really started to understand what sex and stuff was and what guys and gals did behind closed doors, because we knew that even with us in the picture he couldn't be completely happy. Bruce didn't grow up with a mother – he grew up with Alfred. He needs a woman. I think Selina's the one."

"Why?"

"Bruce has only really had two top lovers in his life – Selina Kyle and Talia al Ghul. Talia was nice, don't get me wrong, but her dad is the owner of an opposing company who are really, _really_ competitive. He'd have people on the inside of Wayne Enterprises 'leave' for better jobs at his firm and invite co-workers to come with him. Bruce loved Talia, but he couldn't relax around her, the business partners wouldn't be in the same room, he'd have the press up his ass every freakin' day. Eventually, Bruce had to tell her that she was to make a decision – stop working with her father or leave." Jason shook his head. "No points for guessing which one she chose." He took a deep breath. "Anyway, Selina's cool. She even got me laid a couple of times. The first words she said to me were 'Mister Todd – Bruce has told me all about you, and I'd just like to say that every humans should have the same rights. Even red-heads.'"

The corners of Tim's lips twitched.

"And Bruce... He really loves her. Dick adores her. Those two are worse than an old lady's sewing circle when they get together, with their gossip and the talk about clothes and shoes and hair. I like her. She's nice. Bought me glow-in-the-dark condoms the other week. She's the one I go to when I just need to whine like a little bitch until my heart's content."

"Heh. Can't imagine _you_ whining."

Jason laughed.

Silence settled like a blanket, masking the thoughts in the room once again. Jason looked over at his boyfriend, his heart sinking at the _numbness_. This way in which he looked at the bubbles with glass eyes was enough to make him die a little inside.

"Tim, what's this about? Why are you asking about Bruce and Selina?"

It was like someone had flicked the switch on Tim's emotions; his lips pursed as he swallowed, a shaky sound of defeat.

"My parents were arguing," he admitted. His voice was almost too low, but Jason knew that if he asked for him to speak up then it would only end in a hundred cracks and inevitable tears. "It was fine, at first, because that happens all the time and it usually just ends in loud, disturbing sex. Not that _that_ really makes it any better for _me_, but at least it doesn't get too bad." He drew another breath. "Tonight it was worse than usual. When 'Tim' turned into 'your son', which turned into 'that boy', which turned into 'that faggot' I had to leave. I wore my worst clothes, stuffed an old gym bag, caught two buses and walked fifteen minutes before I called Dick and asked him to open the gates."

Jason was ashamed at his first thoughts; why hadn't Tim called _him_ to open the gates? Why had he gone straight to Dick?

His next, however, were out-loud. "You were walking around Gotham alone? At _night_? Tim, that's not..."

But Jason didn't have his heart in the lecture. He wrapped his arms around Tim until he was cuddled up on his chest.

.

Tim's pyjamas fit him in a way that Jason's did not. While the older boy's left room to hang off of him yet not enough to make his physique look weedy at all, Tim's were perfect for his size, expensive-looking, and matching.

The water gave a few final glugs as it flowed down the plughole and Tim spat into the sink, rinsed his toothbrush. Donning a blanket cloak, Jason appeared in the doorway, dashing as his boyfriend spotted him and smirked.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch, Jason. We can be mature about this."

"Why the hell would _I_ sleep on the couch? It's _my_ fucking bed!"

"Didn't Bruce ever teach you any manners?"

"Maybe," Jason replied grumpily.

"We will _both_ sleep _here_," Tim told him, yanking his arm towards the double bed. "You can keep me warm."

The feeling that jumped from Jason's heart to his loins wasn't one he was proud of as he climbed under the covers. Being like this made him think about things he shouldn't have been thinking about, but the teenager couldn't help it. Sleep deprivation combined with the body of his—_hot, sexy, hormone-fuelled_—boyfriend so close and under the same duvet was forcing all sorts of fantasies into his head.

"Do you think your parents will mind that you're here?" He didn't really care for the answer, but it provided a temporary escape from the tightening of his boxers and the heat of his face.

Tim's smile faltered. "I don't want to talk about it, or them, or anything. Can we just-"

"-sleep, yeah. I know."

"Actually," Tim blushed, "I was going to say _snuggle_."

A sudden shade of red flushed the older boy's cheeks. "What happened to the hanky-panky rule?"

It seemed that Tim had had enough, however, and he proved this in the sweep of his hand from Jason's leg to his T-shirt, keeping him in place as the former moved in.

"Just kissing's fine for me," he replied.

So Jason took the opportunity, finding himself on top, trying to create the balance of the gentleness Tim needed and the satisfaction _he_ needed. "God, _you_..." he breathed.

"Do you always do that when you're turned on?"

Jason's hot mouth was seeking out the pulse point to the side of the tendon in Tim's neck when he asked "Do what, kid?"

"Let out random fragments of sentences." The corners of Jason's lips cocked up at the hush over his words. "You always do it when we're like this." The fabric of his shirt bundled at his collarbone.

"Fine, have some _real_ sentences." The red-head planted a kiss just below the centre of Tim's ribs. "You are _smart_."

Tim's eyes slid shut, the sigh that he blew out light and fluffy.

"You are _cute_." This time he was murmuring into the line of muscle running down the middle, his own heart thrumming, then the boy moved so that he was hovering over Tim's bellybutton. "You have a great body."

Tim gave a little gasp in reaction to the tongue that dabbed and flicked into the dip. Jason sealed his lips around it, the heat and movement drawing out another low breath.

By the time he'd reached the spot above Tim's soft blooming of pubic hair peaking out his boxers there was a hand resting on his head. Jason had barely touched it when Tim's hips shot up.

"Stop!" he hissed. "You're going to make me-"

"Take off your pants?" Jason murmured, lifting his face and letting it nuzzle into the curve of Tim's neck.

Tim's fingers slid to the nape of Jason's locks, twirling them and stroking around the spine bumps. "So far your guesses as to what I'm going to say have been wrong, so I suggest you stop. I was going to say that you were going to make me _hard_."

"From the feel of things, it's too late for that," Jason grinned, creating a trail of spit marks where his kisses neared Tim's lips.

Tim gave him his best look of exasperation. "Well... you too."

His hair was sticking up, his brows flat, cheekbones gold under the glow of the bedside lamp, lips pink, shiny. Jason mashed their mouths together for a full-on, open, messy collision that made his brain melty like an ice-cream in Summer.

"Do you want to take care of yourself in the bathroom," he offered, "or just go to sleep?"

"Sleep," Tim answered quickly. The mere _thought_ of tossing off with nothing but a door and a wall separating him from another human being (relationship status was irrelevant) made his knees feel weak no matter _how_ turned on he was.

"In that case, I'll see you in five minutes," Jason grunted, crawling off of the bed. Tim turned his head away, because Jason's hard-on had his boxers taking... an interesting shape. "Make it ten."

When Tim was alone he began to regret it, the discomfort of his unattended erection making rest more difficult than it should have been. He could hear Jason despite the closed door – the tight noises he was trying to keep down, the trapped grunts, the caught-between-teeth moans. It was an argument easily won by the illogical side of his brain, overcoming a mantra of "Nobody has ever died of blue balls", hand teasing his cock beneath his pyjama bottoms. It was something he'd picked up from Jason.

Next was the search for lube.

He estimated it'd been two minutes since the sliding door shut, and guessed that Jason would keep all of his things for this situation in the bottom drawer. Sure enough, there was a bottle of lube.

That just wasn't what had Tim's eyes going wide.

Toys.

Tim didn't even recognize half of them, but the half he _did_ was made up of dildos, vibrators, clamps, rings...

He finally spotted the thing he was looking for (under some beads that Tim didn't even _want_ to know about) right beside that box of glow-in-the-dark condoms Jason had been talking about. He squirted a fair amount into his palm and rolled over to the left again, since Jason had subtly staked some kind of territorial claim over the right side. His face mushed into the pillow, fisting his stiff dick, moving his pelvis around, imagining anything and everything that would get him off quickly. Encouraging flushes of pleasure multiplied as the fifteen-year-old stuffed another hand down. He cradled his balls, rubbed the base, opened his mouth and gaped silently, smeared precum across the head.

Again the need to thrust hit him and he gave in to it. His hips lowered and rose in quick jumps. The pad of his index finger used a movement much like what one would use when giving a fingerprint on his perineum. Tim was so close, ready to burst, when the clock revealed it had been nine minutes.

Jason swore a little more loudly than he'd intended, the arousal at the realisation that he had came enough to send Tim over the edge and into his own hand, an orgasm muffled by the pillow that smelled like Jason.

When he eventually got through the lovely daze his penis was soft and still wet. Clean-up was easy since he now knew the whereabouts of Jason's tissues through his little exploration earlier. He'd have to find a good way to bring up what he'd dubbed "The Collection" later on.

Jason sauntered in, collapsing lazily onto the bed and moving as eagerly as he could in that state to meet with Tim's back.

"That was quite probably the best tug I've ever had," he stated softly. "If only you'd been there to join me." Tim's heart rate did a nervous little dance as Jason rubbed his chest. Jason didn't care enough to notice, instead dragging his teeth down Tim's shoulder. "Mm, you smell good. Actually, you smell like..." He lifted Tim's hand despite the resistance and inhaled. "That's my lubricant! Did you jerk off in my bed?!"

"Maybe," Tim muttered, snatching his wrist back.

Jason looked...

...disappointed.

"If you didn't want to go through to the bathroom all you had to do was say so. Damn, you were actually doing that in _my_ bed and I missed it?"

Relief took over the places fear had set in.

"Yeah, I guess you did," Tim replied, snuggling down. "So let's just get to sleep, okay?"

Jason grumbled something under his breath as he spooned up against Tim.

"Good night, Jason."

"Good night, Tim. Try not to masturbate while I'm unconscious."


End file.
